MENU

Widdop Fell Race

SIMON LISTER 18 JUL 2013

Widdop fell race, I'd never really heard of it, though I had driven past the Pack Horse Inn a couple of times so thought I knew where it was, which was a start.

Facebook banter had said it's hard but that's about it. Ryan Belshaw said it's a good race and not as bad as Weets, which as you know from my last report was a killer, so I decided as it was part of the TAC Summer Series I'd give it a go. A nice mid-week run - I said run, not race - if I raced it would have been carnage. Nice mid week run, that was my brief.

Usually working most evenings with my job, I had to book this night weeks in advance - time management is not a strong point of mine - anyway it was in the diary for 7:15pm Wednesday evening: Widdop.

As luck would have it, I had a full work diary this week with a few late calls already booked, so to compensate I booked a mid-afternoon one in Bury of all places, Ramsbottom to be precise, to you and me thats a good 45 mins away in clear traffic.

Anyway, mid-afternoon I tootled off to my appointment and got lost. Whalley road in Ramsbottom is very long and my customer was the wrong end, so after turning up late I was behind schedule and I didn't have my running kit in the car. Marvellous.

Usual negotiations took place and the deal was done and I set off home at 6:35pm. Eeeek! Race starts at 7:15pm and I haven't got my kit nor do I know exactly where it is. So driving home at Mach 2, obviously within all speed limits officer, I get home and avidly searches for my kit. Freshly washed, it was in it place on the washing pile…quick as a flash I stripped off and donned the team colours and set off to Pack Horse.

I thought I knew where I was going, up Harle Syke and keep going I thought, but I missed a turning on Ridehalgh Lane and ended up near Coldwell. A quick three-point turn and I was back on track driving like a man possessed over the treacherous back roads. With seconds to spare I arrived, ran up the hill to registration and got my number, lined up and set off.

My heart rate was racing but in my haste I'd forgot my Garmin kit so was 'running blind'. No problem for most but I'm a statto and like to know where I am, how fast or slow I'm going, how far I've gone and how far to go. Knowledge is power!

Starting at the back of the pack as usual, we set off down the road I'd just run up and across down the field, bottlenecking at each stile and gate. Easy pace all downhill - I liked it. But as you know, what goes down has to go up, and up we went. It wasn't lung-busting but it made me wheeze and pant. Wibbly wobbly, up and down, then as we got to the top it levelled off and around the reservoir we went.

Adam Howard cruised passed me grumbling it was a tough start but he sailed off it to the distance easy enough. Sandbagger! I managed to pass a few ladies along the track and then we turned right in the the grass.

It was a single track with long thick knee high grass, which snaked its way through the field - bizarre! I guess it was a bike track as every time I put a foot down or lifted up I caught my heel and tripped, most annoying. So I walked quickly like a super model putting one foot in front of the other, heel to toe up to the next stile where the footing improved. I then made up a couple of places and the trail went down again to the next reservoir where two drunkards offered me a can of Stella Artois - how nice, just five miles too early.

As we got to bottom of the hill we ascended again and as the lady in front squealed and tripped I managed to pass her and powered through until half way up, then a troop of lady runners just floated passed me and away they went. I think I must have weighed about seven stone more than them as they did it with extra special ease.

As I got to the top of the next hill, which zig-zagged the side of the fell, I got my photo taken in a Mo Farah-ish pose – bit of fun if nothing else. Then there was a bit of a commotion as a Stainland runner had fallen taking his mate with him. After exchanging pleasantries and making sure they were okay I passed them and continued jogging away step for step with the woman in front. How she stayed on her feet I've no idea as she clipped every rock, tuft and stone about.

The track went up down and around – all I could see was three feet in front of me as it was very technical footing and I was scared of falling – so I was concentrating hard. However, I was now getting rather annoyed by my own personal swarm of flies - up my nose, in my ear, in my eye - it was very irritating and took my focus of the footings in front. Needless to say in tripped a few times but luckily didn't fall on the strategically placed face-breakers dotted about.

At about five miles in I got my second wind and started to make up speed. I could see Mark McConville in the distance, but he was powering along keeping pace and I couldn't catch him as much as I tried. I made the trig point, which I tapped - 'cos if you don't tap it you've not been there you know - and from the trig it must be down hill I thought and that gave me a bit of a boost.

Keeping pace with the runner in front, I descended the hill steadily away over the strategically placed barge boards over the bogging bits (thank you to whoever put those there) and gained a few more places. I was now within two places of Mark who had got to the bottom of the fell, on to the Tarmac, and was starting to go up the 1:5 or more road - it was a steep one!

I slowed to a walk, got my breath back and plodded on, cheered on by the spectators and marshals saying "Oh look, there's another Trawdener here too," we must have caused a stir turning up mob handed.
 
They pointed me in the direction of the shoulder high bracken so I could no longer see Mark, he was deep in the undergrowth, but the footing was good and as I'd recovered I started to make ground seeing him pop up periodically on the higher levels.

Again the track snaked through the hill and after nearly falling left down the hill, I was chasing Mark down, finally catching him about 500m from the end. I was just about to tig him when he stepped to one side saying he was totally finished and let me run past.

Well in the Trawden Summer Series every place counts, so through I went and almost missing the final style, we climbed into the final field and had a bit of a sprint finish. We were both cheered on by the TAC massive and I managed to finish 1 second ahead of Mark. Sorry about that.

After catching our breath we met up with Dave Potter and made our way to the bar, jammers as it was, where I enjoyed a super-cold pint of lager in the sunset. A great midweek run, not as hard as Weets but tough enough.

Only Boulsworth to go to complete the series – looking forward to it.

News Archive

GO